


quarter past 3

by IAmTM



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F, FWB, Fuckbuddies, Porn With Plot, RPF, Smut, feels so much feels, moonsun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTM/pseuds/IAmTM
Summary: The Moon and the Sun. Fuckbuddies.
Relationships: Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul
Comments: 52
Kudos: 199





	1. Salted Caramel

**Author's Note:**

> This is a republish. I took my last profile down for personal reasons.

YK POV   
  
It’s half past one in the morning. You know you’re supposed to be sleeping, but here you are stabbing some stale tteokbokki with your chopsticks. You’re not really hungry nor are you worried about something. You’re just... antsy, needing to be doing something with your hands. Otherwise; you're on your phone, dialing her number, and asking her to come over. Again.   
  
You used to NOT call her at all, but idle hands are the devil’s playground. Lately, you’ve been tempted to call at any given impulse. To be fair you’ve only done it a handful of times. Nothing really out of the ordinary.   
  
“Really?”   
  
You catch yourself asking your reflection on your black phone screen. Briefly, before it unlocks from recognizing your face.   
  
There’s an understanding between the two of you. Needing company is human nature so you keep each other entertained when you want to go out and unwind or when you *ahem* need a helping hand. You both don’t know a lot of people who have the time to do spontaneous outings anyway.   
  
In the line of your profession, it’s difficult to meet like-minded people. The life of an idol isn’t all limelight and glamour. As a matter of fact, it’s mostly grueling practices, dragging show schedules, long ass photoshoots, longer ass video shoots, business meetings, and more practices in between. At least, it’s like that for your group. Which you are thankful for. You love performing, it is your first love, and if doing all these things mean that you’d be performing in the next 20 years then you’re VERY glad you’re doing them. Being your group’s leader surely mean you’re expected to be doing more, but you don’t mind. Not at all.   
  
You don’t have anything to do the next day; except for that one business meeting at 4 PM. An almost day-off is rare in the year of Buddha 2018. It must be the busiest year for you and your members with multiple albums that need to be churned out like  _ pajeon _ for hungry passersby. Along that are multiple concerts in different countries and fan meetings galore. It’s truly a wonder how you’re not dead yet.   
  
You put your phone down; but not before you already reflex-dialed her number. You really should take her out of your favorites list. There is a slim possibility that she’s asleep. Pretty slim, knowing at the back of your head that she’s surely playing some game on her pc or her phone at this very moment.   
  
The tteokbokki you’ve been poking at is now closer to being a mess than food. You pick at it some more. You finally give up on your attempt at eating and push the remaining of it in the fridge. Maybe, it is a good time to write a song. Ten minutes and a few broken notes into songwriting and you accept that it probably isn’t a good idea either. So far you’ve written about discretional sins, how hard it is to breathe, of how you feel them when you touch your skin. You slam the pen down and crumple the paper. It’s probably just the time of the month. You collect yourself, save your voice memo, and take a picture of the lyrics. Could be useful in the future.   
  
It’s now quarter after 2 and you’re back to where you started; staring at your phone. Except now you are wondering why she hasn’t called you back yet. You wonder if she went out. If so, with whom? Not like it’s always your business to know her whereabouts nor her present company; but at this moment, you want to make it your own. You wonder at what could be wrong with you.   
  
The room is suddenly stiflingly silent. You don’t even hear your dog shuffling in her sleep. You walk over to where her bed is. Her abdomen is rising and falling steadily. She sneezes as you watch; you coo at her sleeping form. Only a few minutes later you’re back in your kitchen staring at the apps on your phone. You curse at facial recognition. Next year, you’re getting an android phone instead.    
  
There is music now, in low volume, to fill the silence. It’s your older records. The rap part comes up and you note how she used to rap in a higher pitch. Your Apple Music must be set in shuffle because it is now playing a more recent song. You catch yourself humming along with the rap parts and the growly part vibrates low in your throat. The vibrations then travel lower to your nether regions and you rub your nose bridge to alleviate a building headache. There are vibrations everywhere now even at the tip of your fingers, but you realize it is the buzzing of your phone.   
  
Your dumb ass picks up immediately and is rewarded by the deep sound of her sleep addled voice. She whispers your name. No honorifics just your name and it makes you giddy. Years back and you would have had her head for it. She’s sorry she fell asleep while playing a game on her phone. She asks if something is wrong. You want to affirm this because you’re driving yourself crazy due to this irrational wanting; instead, you deny it. You say you called because you were writing a song and you thought about asking for her help. She hums in understanding and it tickles your ear. A shiver runs through your body and your breath hitches. You bemoan how weak you are. She hears it and says she’s coming over. You want to say something lewd about her coming, but you slam your mouth shut and two curt sounds of approval from you later your phone call ends.   
  
You run to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You wonder if you should wash up fast, but she’ll make a big deal of it you are sure. She’ll make a big deal of you even brushing your teeth anyway so you decide to wash up. Secretly, you are hoping that washing up will make you sleepy after. The cold air hits your skin when you exit the shower raising goosebumps all over it. You acknowledge the death of sleepiness.   
  
The doorbell rings and you raise your fist in mild frustration. Of course, she’d arrive at a moment when you’re desperately looking for a robe to replace your towel. You pick a random one from your closet and school your features to that of a serene one.   
  
The serene mask morphs into a goofy one when you open the door to her smiling face. She’s wiggling her eyebrows at you and you want nothing more than to punch her face or kick her. Her laughter fills the empty apartment when you actually do punch her arm. Predictably, she makes fun of you for freshening up. She annoys you to high heavens it is known. It is also known that you like her a lot.   
  
You make the first move; stretching up to give the beauty mark on her brow a tiny kiss. She sobers up then, clearing her throat. She shows you the small tub of ice cream she has with her. It’s your favorite flavor and you feel something warm settle low in your gut. It must be lust. The safest thing you could associate it with. You draw in a breath through your mouth and you look at her looking intently at your open mouth. The warmth sunk in lower still, pooling at the place you want her to pay attention to the most and you smile because, yes, that definitely feels like lust. You murmur your thank yous. 

You hear her muttering aloud around the living room while you were putting the ice cream away. Something about you being good at this pushing and pulling thing. You shove the ice cream inside the freezer a hint forcefully. You see other small tubs of same flavored ice cream in there and ignore the screaming implications.   
  
You step into an already dark living room. She’s already in the bedroom if the sliver of light from the door left ajar is an indicator. You shiver in anticipation.   
  
She’s smiling brightly at you when you enter the room. She moves languidly closer until she’s in your space; a smile still on her lips. You want to smack it off. You tell her so, but her smile just widens. You want to grab her. Want to kiss her. Want to see that annoying smile disappear. You want. Want. Want.   
  
You opt for caressing the back of her neck where she’s sensitive. The move draws an expected moan deep from her throat. She looks up to somehow shake it off but you take the chance to suck at her exposed neck. Not too hard. You are not that stupid just yet. Make-ups and hickeys play in your mind. She shivers against you, breathes out your name. Warm hands grip your shoulders tightly, half pushing you away, wholey drawing you in. You pull at the zipper of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing and find that she isn’t wearing anything under it. You tongue at her now exposed collarbone, enjoy how her breath hitches an inch at every little lick. 

She shakes your shoulders and tells you to take her to bed. Her eyes are wild now; all the playfulness from earlier is completely gone. She’s hot when she’s performing but she’s even hotter when she’s telling you what to do and pulling you roughly to your own bed.   
  
You hand her the sash of your robe to pull on and she’s quick to heed your unspoken request. You crawl towards her, your open robe framing your bare body. She tries to blink away the pleading look her eyes take on when she’s turned on but fails. You probably look feral to her now with your tongue darting out to lend moisture to your dry lips. It’s probably just right because you want to eat her up so badly. It’s ironic given that you wanted her to come over so she can worship your body. Look at you now ready to lay all your offerings at her altar. 

You almost yelp when your bare chest touches hers beneath you. Yours is still cold from the shower while hers is very warm from sleep. A fresh wave of shivers run through you as your body draws in her warmth, melting into her embrace. The feeling of her feathering gentle kisses on your brow breaks the spell your head is clouded with. You raise yourself on your elbows to catch her gaze. She’s looking at you with a softness that isn’t foreign to you. You’re probably looking at her the same way. This is the very reason why you only ever fuck in the dark. You reach out to turn the bedside lamp off.   
  
You come back up straddling her pajama-clad thighs. Laughter bubbles out from her mouth and you punish her by moving a little bit higher and grinding down her hip bone. Your wetness smears through her thin pajama bottoms and she hisses through her teeth. Oh, what you’d give to see how you affect her? You regret turning the lamp off now.   
  
She’s asking you in her adoringly demanding manner to take her pajamas off. Her voice takes on that higher tone she uses when she’s frustrated or angry. It’s unexpectedly cute. It’s your turn to laugh. The pajamas are thrown to the side hitting something that you can’t bring yourself to care about.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness and thanks to the moon outside you can somehow see her form and her pout beneath you. You seize her lips in a long and lazy kiss that you know she likes. She nips at your lower lip and then soothes it with her tongue until you catch it and suck on it violently. She gasps, but it turns your kisses into something urgent. The oversized hoodie is now shrugged off as if it burns. She’s touching her own breasts now and it makes you angry. You tell her you are here as you snatch her hand away from her chest and you begin laving on them. She holds your head steady while you do so.   
  
Your hands wander. You love her lithe body; love it even more when it’s slick with thin sweat as it is now. You try and give each of her small, perky, perfect breasts the attention they deserve.   
  
She’s squirming under you now. But you are not done teasing her yet. You feel her abs quiver under your mouth as you breathe over them. Her hands gripping your hair pushing you down to where she needs you to be. When your breath finally ghosts on there; she gives out a deep sigh of relief. She warns you of revenge but the lamentations got cut off by your mouth sucking on her clit. She tastes like salty creme and to be honest this must be the reason you crave for salted caramel when you miss her. Her protest turns into moans, now that you’re licking long lines along her slit. She likes it when you alternate between deep licks and hard sucks so you do just that. Over and over until she’s chanting your name.   
  
You feel her folding her knees up and spreading her legs wider for you. You feel pride because she’s doing things she knows you find extremely sexy. If she starts moving her hips in a slow wind you know you are a goner. As if she’s read your mind she exactly does just that. You grip her pert ass and drags her wetness closer to your mouth determined to give the sexy minx an orgasm she greatly deserves for being mindful. You bring back the hood that covers her sensitive nub with your tongue. She nearly bucks you off when you grazed it with your teeth then gives it a well-timed suck. She calls you her baby when she comes hard, dripping on your chin.   
  
But you are not finished with her yet. Gently, you press a finger into her as you crawl back up. She tries to turn her head away but you are too quick. You both moan as she accepts her own taste in a kiss. You start moving the finger in and out of her and she bites your lower lip. The taste of iron stung your mouth and it’s probably twisted how you like it. You ask if she wants you to add another and she gasps out her affirmation. She wants you to fill her, she says. Two fingers slip in easily because she’s wet and ready. She’s clinging to you as she moves her hips to the motion of your hand coming in and out; in and out; in and out. The wet slapping sounds like filthy music to your ears. You flatten your palm against her already sensitive nub. One rolling push and she comes yet again. Not as powerful as the first yet it still elicits raw sounds from her.   
  
You are thankful you don’t have schedules the next day because her voice sounds a little used up. You raise your fingers to your lips and cleans them with your mouth. She hides her face behind a pillow when you do this. Just her mouth and nose. Her eyes are still trained at you looking at whatever she can see with only the moonlight illuminating. You move in closer to give her a kiss that still taste like sex. She thanks you against your lips and you thank her back. It used to be so hard to say these words to her. She moves to top you but her yawn makes you think twice. You push at her gently and she understands.   
  
She gets out of bed to clean herself up. You enjoy the sight of that conservative ass uncovered for your enjoyment. She crawls back up to you and demands for you to take your robe off because she wants to get her cuddle on. You don’t have the heart to disappoint her so your robe joins her pajama bottom somewhere in your room. Her wish goodnight is barely out her lips when her breathing evens out. You try not to move much in her embrace knowing how lightly she sleeps.   
  
You know you are not in love neither is she. You think you’re not in love no matter how you come alive every time you are with her. This is not it; you both tell each other each time it comes up. The clock strikes quarter after 3 and you burrow deeper into her embrace. Under the blue light of the moon at least, you can pretend that this won’t disappear as soon as the sun comes up.


	2. an ocean of waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> byul waits

BK POV   
  
You don’t know much about love, but you do know a lot about waiting. You could be an expert at waiting for all that it’s worth. After you walked out of that last agency where the CEO called you fat, you waited for the call from any of the new agencies you applied to. When you were a child you waited for a little brother that never came. You waited on your sisters as they grew up; not hand and foot, but you weren’t negligent either. Waiting and you seemed to go hand in hand in life. It’s quarter past 2 in the afternoon and your members should all be make-up ready by now. Another day; another show. You still feel the excitement after all these years. You were to perform a new song and; honestly, you can hardly wait.   
  
  


  
  
Your group didn’t win. It wasn’t a happy time but wasn’t sullen either. The car ride back to your company is a riot when you are all together. This day isn’t any different. The maknaes are playing a game of guess-the-song and you join in. You reach your hand out to squeeze your seat mate’s shoulder. She’s trying her best but she can’t seem to butt in because even though she’s your group’s leader the maknaes are too fast at guessing. You make fun of her for being slow and wait for the punch that you know is coming. She sure got a strong arm. You hit her back. The next thing you know, you are not talking for the short duration of the ride.  
  
  
  


  
She went home without saying goodbye. A sigh escapes your lips as you tap on your phone. Your thumb hovers over a silly video of her dancing that you’ve taken earlier when she was dancing to another group’s song while waiting for your own stage. You lick at the corner of your mouth in contemplation. Her dancing has improved so much since your debut. In fact every time she moves these days it looks like a sort of dance to you. You release your bottom lip; completely unconscious that you were biting it. To send or not to send the stupid vid, that is the question. Deciding against it, you seek the maknaes fully knowing that they probably went home earlier than your leader. You’re right. The look on your manager’s face when you insist on taking her out to dinner is pure gold though. You give your phone the side-eye the whole time you are eating.  
  
  
  
  


Your apartment feels extra empty when you arrive. Habitually, you turn on the tv. There’s a drama playing. You turn the volume up hoping the sound will slide into the corners of the room and chase the loneliness away.   
  
  
  
There is a comfort to be found in your 11-step skincare; but not tonight. The bottle of essence she gave you is taunting you. It’s telling you that you are an ungrateful little punk. You blow raspberries as you give up on your pride. Using the heel of your hand, you summon Siri to call a contact. She answers on the first ring. You tell her how you made a mistake on your skin care because you were thinking of her and your tiny fight. She tells you to line your products up so you won’t make the same mistake again. You spare, your already perfectly lined up products, a glance and tell her she’s really smart. There are seconds of dead air as you both wait for the other to speak. You ask if you could come over at the same time she said she’s going out. The urge to whine is strong; you give in to it. She makes some clicking noise with her tongue and tells you she has to go. You think the fight earlier has been forgotten.  
  


  
  
  
You finish the whole skincare routine an hour later. The first thing you ask her when she answers your second call is: if she’s home because you’re pulling up. She says she just came back from a recording. You tell her you are gonna be there in a few if that’s ok. As if she has a choice.  
  


  
  
You knock twice before punching on the code to unlock her door. The sound of her television playing something in English tells you where she is. She looks exhausted in her short-sleeved pajama top and shorts but she visibly relaxes when you enter the room. A beckoning finger from her welcomes you. You fit yourself in between her legs on the couch. She rests her chin on your shoulder. Her arms snake around your slight form, but her eyes focus on the movie she’s been watching. She tells you about the plot. The drone of her voice softens your posture and you sink back into her warmth. Her legs wrap around you when you raise your own to rest on the couch. This is one of her favorite cuddle positions. Near the end of her lengthy summary of the movie so far, she tells you that you smell good. Her breath tickles too closely by your ear. You turn your head too fast and you bump heads. She tells you that you’re a klutz in a careless tone of voice. It irks you and you retort that she shouldn’t say things like that. She scoffs. Say she’s going to lie from now on and just say you smell bad. You don’t mean it like that so you get mad enough to feel burned by her limbs around you. You break away from her embrace when you stand, one foot already feeling around for the footwear that you kicked under her couch.   
  


  
  
  
She’s not going to stop you from going and you really don’t want to go. You curl at the other end of the couch.  
  
Waiting.  
  
She complains about the cold; looking at you like it’s more about you than the temperature. She calls you by some stupid nickname she’s thought of on the spot. Tonight it’s “green bean”. She’s using that tone of voice that she sometimes uses when giving affection... to her dog. You roll your eyes at her. Her laughter echoes off the corners of the room chasing off loneliness. You give her a bluffing look of haughtiness presenting the sharp line of your jaw to her. A dark look crosses her face. Her body seems to involuntarily slide into the center of the couch closer to you. She’s rubbing her lips together like she wants to say something. You bite your lower lip at the sight. The tension is palpable that one small movement can create a wave. It was her licking her lips that got you closing the gap between you in a kiss.  
  


  
  
This is a dance that you both understand. You both might say thank you more easily these days; but sorry seems to still be the hardest word. Her hands at the back of your neck and the steady pressure of her lips silkily sliding with yours sure feels like an apology.  
  
  
  


  
Words may not be your forte, but knowing how she wants to be kissed is. You slide your tongue inside her mouth touching her own. It coaxes a moan from her that you readily swallow. 

You move to place butterfly kisses on her downy cheeks creating a path to her ear. You husk out how you love her cheeks and calls her “Ddun-ie” with affection. It has her sighing. Her sighs turn into ragged breathing when you start biting and licking her earlobe. Slowly, she moves to straddle you as if asking for more. Her hands find their way to unbutton the top she’s wearing. She pulls her ear away from your mouth and replaces it with a nipple when her shirt is finally off. You smile against it before grazing it with your teeth. You hear her make hissing sounds that only intensifies when you suck on her offered bud.  
  
The arms you have around her find their place by her side. Your fingers lightly trace her perfect s-line until they finally settle on her ass. She starts calling on her God when you give her backside a good, hard squeeze. She pulls her breast away from you to give u a kiss that left you breathless. She’s already hot to the touch and is begging you to fuck her already. The words sound so filthy from her mouth and it turns you on. You cup her clothed mound and feels the wet silk of her sleeping-shorts.  
  
No panties tonight.  
  
The thought that she actually prepared for this knowing that you’re sleeping over warms both your heart and the wetness that pools between your legs. You choose to simply push her sleep shorts to the side and enter her with two fingers. The move was abrupt and it made her scramble to be on her knees. She’s eyeing you dangerously when you look up to her. Her hands have a firm grip on your shoulders now for balance. She closes her eyes and throws her head back as she spreads her legs wider and shimmies down to fully swallow your fingers in her. Both of you moan loudly at the sensation. You worship her abs that are now at your eye level with licks and flicks. Her hands knead your shoulders. You feel nails bite into your skin as she enjoys your attention. She has a wide singing range but your favorite is her low register when she’s almost threatening you to move your hands up and down or she’ll die.  
  
You withdraw until your fingertips are almost outside. Fingers do a little flutter as if you’re playing the piano. You lock eyes as she lowers herself and you push up into her. It’s against your unspoken law of not looking at each other while fucking, but she’s so beautiful with her hair sticking on her sweaty forehead and her torso a little red from all your attentiveness that you simply cannot look away. She shows her teeth while she bounces up and down matching the rhythm that you set. A new sound comes out of her mouth each time your thumb rubs on her clit. Her juices flow warmly into your hands. You can tell that she’s close by the way she tightens around your digits deep inside her. You just know what could tip her off the edge. You quickly take one of her hands with your free one and sucked on her index and middle finger. The warm wetness of your mouth around her fingers mirroring what you feel inside her made her eyes and mouth widen in delighted shock. She comes with a loud shout. You catch her when she crumbles forward to you. Pulling your arm from between your bodies, you envelop her in a proper hug. Her body shakes and you join in with her laughter. She calls you a punk and asks where you learned that. Honesty is the best policy so you tell her you learned it from Debussy. You tell her the quote* and she rolls her eyes at your classical music greasiness. She kisses your neck and your breath quickens.  
  
  
  
And so it goes. You fuck your petty fights away. Tomorrow you’ll wake up with a clean slate. Some people may say that it’s not the right way to go about, but it’s the only way you know. She’s a deep ocean that you are afraid you won’t be able to fathom, but you’re willing to skinny dip in each time you are given a chance. All you have to do is wait.  
  
  
  
___________________________________

*”Hands are not made to be in the air above the piano, but to enter inside.” ~Debussy   



	3. Ofuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonsun: Japan

BK POV

One of the CEOs calls you in for an emergency meeting. You can’t think of anything that could cause an emergency. Even surfing on the web doesn’t reveal any new scandal or issue. Still your pulse throbs quick beats by your throat.    
  
You push the door to his office gingerly. Both of the CEO’s are there. Them and her. A smile breaks on your face. You don’t feel alone now because you know she, as a leader and friend, always has your back.    
  
Bows are exchanged and your CEO walks over to guide you to an extra chair. It’s an intimate setting and nobody is sitting behind a desk. It must be something personal.    
  
The CEOs look at each other, as if sizing the situation. You know how they work. Only one will speak for the both of them. You are already inching your seat closer to your left, closer to her reassuring warmth.    
  
The chattier one of your CEOs claps his hands as a signal to start the conversation. They’re thinking of something useful. They want to know if the idea is good for you. The recent international activities your group has had revealed that more fans relate to the specific dynamic that you and your leader have. They plan on capitalizing, but will respect you if you don’t want to do it.   
  
You know where this is going. It is truly fine by you, but you choose to stay silent. A stolen glance to your left reveals your leader’s contemplative face. She’s got her business face on. You breathe a sigh of relief because she’s got this.    
  
It’s funny because you’ve also had this conversation before. When your pairing eclipsed the maknaes’ supposedly main one, you were also called in and tasked with doing “couple” videos. You don’t mind. You like doing those but having your leader by your side is an added bonus. All your videos are management approved beforehand. The expenses spent in doing them are reimbursed that is when your leader gets around having them reimbursed because you personally couldn’t be bothered.    
  
Another was when they asked you to do a “scandalous” photoshoot. That one was pretty clever, but it didn’t work.   
  
You did a little hand raise to get their attention and ask for specifics. They gave you tasks and mentions that it’ll probably bleed out to the new album promotions as well. More shared activities for both of you.    
  
You jokingly say you are going to get sick of each other. Your CEOs give you disbelieving looks.    
  
Next thing you know, your leader is negotiating an incentive trip to Japan for your would-be efforts. Your chatty CEO nods his head and praises her for being a quick thinker. You are so proud of her cunning. You might call her a silly fool, but her mind is one of the things you really really lo... admire her.    
  


  
  


  
Autumn in Japan is a poetry of contrasting leaves almost begging for attention, but your eyes are on her. She’s sitting on a lift up the mountain ahead of you and you just can’t let the moment pass without taking a souvenir. It will take a few more snaps with your camera before you are satisfied. The place isn’t even on the top 20 temples that tourists visit. Rarely do you both visit touristy spots anyway. Not when your companion has a penchant for taking the road less traveled. Another thing that you admire about her.    
  
She guides you through the place as though she’s a tour guide, but her tone is low like there's a secret between the two of you. Not as loud as she is when you are in front of the cameras, being here is healing she’s saying. You reach out to touch her shoulder. Looking into her eyes you agree with a slow nod and an even slower blink. You tell her that being with her alone is already healing. She pouts and tells you to stop being cheesy since you are in a holy place. It’s probably just your imagination but a ghost of a smile played on her lips after that.    
  


  
  


  
She worries about your back. She tells you while she scrubs it. The injury you obtained was pretty recent. You still struggle with it to be honest.    
  
It’s nice to have somebody worry about you. You turn around and give her a kiss on her mochi cheeks. Your breath breezes against it while you tell her you worry about her too. It’s a long list of worries. It'll take a long time to cover everything. She holds your hand the whole time you were talking while soaking in your respective ofuros.   
  


  
  


  
You are just about ready to combust. If your white knuckles are an indication of anything it would be frustration. You grip the back of the chair tighter. This look-don’t-touch rule is driving you crazy.    
  
This trip is supposed to be a healing one. Your complaint falls into seemingly deaf ears. She just continues slow dancing in her bathrobe.   
  
It’s the song’s fault. You are killing whoever recommended Alina Baraz to her. She’s crawling towards you following the heavy feel of “Fantasy”. She slowly crawls up between your legs. Readily, you spread them to accommodate her. You drink in the sight of her creamy shoulders that the motion reveals; but it doesn’t quench your thirst. In fact, your mouth had dried up almost instantly the moment she pushed you down the chair after your shared bath.    
  
You know she’s going to do it, still you’re mesmerized when she turns around and grinds her ass down your crotch. The desert created by weeks of no intimate contact due to busy schedules is instantly made lush. You can feel your wetness soak your robe.   
  
She faces you and brushes against your front, curving her body to fit yours better. You swallow half of the moan struggling to get out. She pouts at that and squeezes at your shoulders hard. A deep moan escapes your lips. She licks them in appreciation.   
  
The singer’s lilting voice enveloped you both as she takes your waiting lips for a kiss. Her hands plunge inside your robe to grab at your breasts and your breath gets caught in your throat. You feel your nipples pebble under her incessant prodings. 

Begging. 

She has you begging to touch her back and you know she likes that. A throaty ‘yes you can’ is barely out of her mouth when you pull her closer. She’s never the giggly type but her giggles bubbles out over your eagerness. She’s as sexy as she’s cute and you can never get enough. All the airiness disperses when she whispers that she wants to eat you whole. She’s very good with her tongue. It’s your favorite part of her body especially when she’s swirling it around your belly button as she makes her way down your waiting wetness.    
  
As much as you want to come, you also have the burning urge to make her come. You reach down to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at you as you tell her to come up. Gone were the days of fucking with your eyes closed and the lights turned off.    
  
You tell her you want to come together. She’s taken aback, but her eyes are too blown up now to do anything but. She’s looking at you like you’re an oasis and all of your insides melt. You share an achingly gentle kiss when she’s back to straddling you. It’s odd knowing she likes a little bite with her kisses. The chair buckles as your movements become desperate graspings. You find yourselves down on the floor atop a soft rug. Eye to eye, limbs tangled together, hands on each other's heat rubbing on swollen clits. You feel yourself getting close and judging by the sounds your efforts are tearing from her mouth; she is as well. Your kiss-roughened lips crash together as your worlds shatter in color. Leaving you both sated and breathless, unmoving on the floor.   
  


  
  


  
“Thank you for the lap dance.” It was your first; hopefully not your last from her. She’s humming along Era Istrefi’s “No I Love Yous” playing on low volume in the background. It’s one of the many unromantic quick-fuck songs that she has on her playlist. You wonder if she plays them on purpose. “What if I fall in love?” You ask against her naked back.   
  
“Then, I would be happy for you.” Her voice sounds husky from your previously rigorous activity. She almost sounds like you and it’s lowkey creepy.    
  
You curl up, spooning her. “Can I be the little spoon next time?”   
  
She hums her agreement; all soft and warm.   
  
Heavy from lack of sleep, your eyes close by their own accord. You breathe in the rest of your original question. Maybe it’s not yet the right time to ask — 

What if I fall in love with you?


	4. NDA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yong dishes out NDAs

YK POV   
  
It was out of pure panic when you busted out None Disclosure Agreements after you had sex for the first time. Your panicked mind just couldn’t process what had occured. The urge to cry turned into a drive to type up the most thorough NDA there could ever be. You made two versions. One where she couldn’t reveal any of what transpired, another where you could also not do the same. You printed four copies. She could keep one while you have your received copy and vise versa. Your sister’s lawyer friend at least didn’t bat a lash when she was reviewing the document. 

The fight that followed, after you presented the NDAs, was of epic proportions. Weeks of cold interactions resulted in a marred relationship at that time. She repeatedly tried to make up with you; but as long as she’s not signing, you couldn’t fully trust her. Fans were speculating a lot about the fight. The maknaes were worried, but since they didn't know anything about it, they couldn’t mediate.    
  
It wasn’t even the greatest lay. You were both too tired from practice that she basically jumped off the car after you alighted and crashed at your place. Some of her stuff was in your closet anyways so it’s not much of a bother that she intended to stay for the night. In no time; she’s pajama clad, sipping on some somaek, and getting ready to talk until you both fall asleep. It was already half past 2.    
  
You were tired, but sleep eluded you. You switched on the tv to watch a movie. That was when you nearly died of embarrassment. The tv opened up to a porn channel. Your bedmate’s chatter instantly died on her lips. She made a move to take the remote from your hand at the same time you extend your arm to turn the tv off. Limbs collided and the remote went flying across the room. If the ground opened up and swallowed you that time you would be very happy. Instead, you got swallowed up by a tight hug of an embarrassed dongsaeng. She apologised and buried her face in your neck. The tickling sensation of her breath near your ear made you shiver. She must have felt it because she moved her head away to look at you better. Her brows were furrowed so closely together they threatened to form a unibrow. She was holding you so closely that you felt her temperature gradually rising. You wanted to explain to her that there must be something wrong with the cable provider, but she’s not stupid and you’re not a liar. So, you shut your mouth and tried to tell her with just your gaze that you are a woman with needs. She nodded and let you go. Her somaek bottle was sweating on the bedside table. She downed all of it in one go.    
  
You slipped off the bed to get the remote. From your peripheral you could see her watching the show with her lips pressed together. You could swear you saw her swallow hard. Her pointer finger found their way to the sharp bridge of her nose and she closed her eyes. She looked so much younger and meeker with her makeup off but her girlcrush pose still had the same effect. Not that she’s posing. You were pretty sure she was trying to block what she was seeing. The sounds from the two men fucking on screen was too fake, but you touched yourself to them too often for you to judge. You changed it to a foreign film channel but there’s a man and woman kissing on there. At last, you decided to settle on a music channel on low volume.    
  
She’s onto her second bottle of beer. It’s an unfamiliar brand so you ask if you could take a swig. As usual it tasted awful. You made a face and she laughed. You asked how she could like that.  _ It’s the same as you liking gay men porn  _ was her answer and your cheeks burned. The alcohol made you a little light-headed maybe that was why you blurted out that it has been so long since you actually had sex and that you miss it. She choked on her beer. You climbed over and smacked her back hard repeatedly until she’s breathing fine. She’s between your legs at where you were kneeling. It shouldn’t feel dirty because you’ve been in this same position a lot of times. Still, it felt a lot dirtier than it should when she looked up to thank you and she got beer dribble at the corner of her lips. You reached out to wipe it off, letting your hand linger against her chin.    
  
She’s just so pretty. Her perfect V-lined face-shape was the opposite of your own round face. You should feel jealous, but you were just in awe each time. She’s your perfect eye candy. Perfect face shape, perfect nose as sharp as knife, perfect tiny rose bud mouth, and perfect mono-lidded eyes. She’s perfect. You couldn’t stress enough. You became aware that you were repeatedly saying “예쁘다”. Her eyes were just dark orbs staring directly into your soul. A last “예쁘다” fell from your lips as they touched hers in a tentative kiss that quickly turned into open mouthed ones. 

Years of pent up frustrations poured out in torrents as you both fumbled in helping each other get out of your clothes. Somebody knocked the lamp off the bedside table sending the room in the mercy of the low light from the tv. But you never noticed it, never noticed anything other that the fulfilment of a craving you weren’t even aware you had. She was sucking on your collarbone and you yelped when she sucked harder than you like. You pulled her up for a kiss but you ground your lips together too hard it was her turn to yelp. The temperature of your bodies were too high for you to even deny the attraction anymore. You both clumsily touched anything you could reach on each other’s bodies. Tongues eagerly licked every curious nook that you wanted to lick and be licked on for the longest time. It was clear that you didn’t know how to do each other yet.   
  
In the mess of being competitive on who could give the other the greater pleasure; it became apparent that nobody would ever be satisfied if everybody gave, but nobody received. She panted a suggestion against your lips. That you would touch yourselves while holding on to each other. You kissed her smart mouth as your hands snaked down your own body to find your wetness. Exactly as you expected you were drenched and it doesn’t take a long time before you were shaking in each others’ arms. The intimacy of the situation brought you to the edge quicker than when you did it to porn.    
  
It wasn’t the greatest lay, but you wanted her to acknowledge it. Maybe, that’s the real reason why you wrote those NDA’s. The morning after was an awkward mix of you panicking and her ignoring it even happened.    
  
Ultimately, she gave in to your demand. You found her waiting for you on your doorstep three weeks later. The white papers she held were white flags. You ushered her inside, locked the papers in your safe, and ordered all her favorite food in. 

Later that night you fucked with more abandon under the cover of complete darkness. You touched each other a little more surely and you both came twice. That was when you began to think that it could work.   
  


  
  


  
You remember that night all those years ago as clear as if it were yesterday. The papers that she gave you were as crisp as they were then. She’s sound asleep in your room right now fully exhausted from the Japan trip. It’s better that way, you need this time alone on your terrace anyway.    
  
The chilly night air bites the skin not covered by your robe. Carefully, you place the NDA copies that you have inside the make shift incinerator. It’s a metal trash bin that you doused with lighter fluid. You watch as the flames lick the papers until they were nothing but black soot, erasing all evidence of it. You hope you don’t get reported for creating fires and that all your neighbors are asleep.   
  
It’s needless to say that you trust the annoying woman sleeping on your bed not to rat you out anymore. Sometimes, you even think you could trust her with your life. You come back to bed with a bounce in your steps. She’s a light sleeper so she’s instantly awake when your side of the bed dips. She mouths “sleep” with just her one eye open. You burrow into her warmth and, yes, you believe you will be sleeping very well tonight.    
  
——-   
*예쁘다 - you’re pretty/pretty   
  



	5. Frozen Breaths: an Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonsun from the eyes of another

Quarter Past 3: Interlude 

3rd Person POV   
  
I have an interest in your sister. You laughed when I tell you this. You are out playing with one of my members and some other boys when we, my own friends and I, passed by and decided to join in the fun. It’s your 92liner mixer night, whatever that means. A couple or five shots in and my tongue is more free. Your sister is fascinating and I tell you so. You readily agree and pat my shoulder like somehow consoling me. I wait for a “poor you” or a “there there”, but it never came. You are a cool chick, but I could never understand you.    
  
There are plenty of times that I have seen you around her. She and I are familiar, being the same age. Sometimes we go out to play with other people our age. You guys seem to be so close; like sisters. She laughs the loudest when she’s around you and your members. Her style is the one I prefer; simple and uncomplicated. I am probably waxing poetic already but that’s the gist of my semi-drunken confession about her to you. You nod your head and repeats the word “uncomplicated”. My sighs mix with the night air.    
  
“To the uncomplicated!” You raise your glass for a toast and your friends readily cheer and clink their glasses to yours. That must be what you said or something else entirely. Your words are already coming out in jumbles. For a rapper, you sure mess up your words a lot when drunk. One of your friends accepts the phone you have passed them and answers. I hear him talking to a Noona and giving directions to the place you are currently in.    
  
Half an hour later the angel of my life walks in. She brings freezing air with her when the door automatically opens to let her in; but I feel warmed by the sight of her. I have never seen anybody look so divine in a padded jacket. I watch as your face turn into the human equal of an “uwu” when you turn around and see her. Such a chic girl; but turns soft when your sister comes around to pick you up. A loud chorus of “NOONA!” greets her when she reaches the table. She bows deeply, obviously shy. I fall deeper a little more.   
  
She notices my presence and greets me with a hand shake. I can feel a blush coming up my cheeks. Her hand is gone too fast. They are now on you as she’s bundling you up in another padded jacket that she’s brought with her, scolding you in a low voice about not bringing a thicker coat. I watch you both interact closely. The way she pouts when you answer her scolding in a round-about way is new to me. I have never seen her like that before. She’s always composed. She’s never one for aegyo. I guess it’s special when it’s family.    
  
I stand when you move to leave after saying goodbye to the other guys. I want to make sure you get to your vehicle safely. My lady love got her arms around your inebriated form. She’s such a caring person to even take care of her members outside of work. 

You are not even looking at where you’re going. Your head is already buried in her sweet neck. Such a sight. Until I heard a yelp. You are now by your car, playing. My angel seems to be good-naturedly beating you up for something you did. She’s yelling about only liking biting when you’re doing... I didn’t catch the rest because her words drown in laughter. Oh, what a laugh! You are fighting one moment and laughing the next. Very queer. You are odd girls.   
  
My sighs freeze the moment they are out my mouth. I can see them curl out to join the cold wind. You both can see your breaths too. I watch you breathe closely against each other’s mouth. She is full of aegyo tonight, my sweet cheeked angel. I hope to be the person in the receiving end of her aegyo one day.    
  
She seems contented playing with you right now. Back against her car’s side with you hugging her, practically breathing each other’s frozen air and giggling. I suddenly feel like an intruder.    
  
I finally make my way back to the restaurant when you pull out of the parking lot. You are lucky to have found people you can be yourselves with.    
  
Very lucky indeed.


	6. Make Up Remover

Sometimes you do really feel like your relationship is purely platonic; when you lay your head on her shoulder and she pats your face lightly, when she make stupid faces at you like you were three just to make you smile, when you do something stupid and she doesn’t act sternly and just laughs. This is not one of those times. She’s sneaking glances at you in a crowded room. Sticky, hungry ones at that. You wonder what could have prompted them. It was fleeting, but you already know her like the back of your hand to even misinterpret anything.    
  
You finger the buttons of your white overcoat. The material feels so good under your touch. It’s expensive and the superficial monster inside you is purring in satisfaction. You glance at your other members and they were busy playing with each other as usual. Walking over to them you join in the inaneness. Even the most inane things feel genuinely significant as long as it’s the four of you playing. You make an imaginary flower by closing and opening your arms and hands. It’s the perfect ending of the evening for you. You are honestly still high from the people’s screams when you were performing. It gives you energy and, times like this, you have extra energy to spare. You squeeze her hand slightly. You think you know why she’s still hungry. The thrill of winning an award is a very potent stimulant. Like emotion mirrors, you feel all the same things sometimes. It is scary.    
  
You used to think you are too different, too opposite. You still are two unique individuals, but your values and your overall taste aligns so well. You sometimes forget where one ends and the other begins.    
  
The event staff tells you that you may now go and the four of you nearly sprint to the dressing room. TWICE isn’t there yet and you have the room for yourselves for a little while. You don’t mind sharing, those kids are alright.    
  
Her stare is drilling a hole at the back of your head even though you hear her exchanging jokes with one of your members. You decide to give her an olive branch. You ask your leader if she wants to catch a late dinner with you. She glances at the piles of food at one corner of the room and refuses. You nod with dejection. She; however, has wanted to get that cherry blossom mocktail since spring. She’s asking if you want to tag along. You sit up with a start. Those mocktails that she wants are served at an exclusive club. She must be out of her mind to think that you can just waltz in there just like that. This is another argument in the works. You grit your teeth. She picks up your costume’s white coat and heels. Suddenly, she’s kneeling in front of you gesturing for you to put on the heels. You oblige. She helps you into the coat. Apparently, that exclusive club she’s gotten reservations for has a dress code. Sometimes she renders you speechless in a very good way.    
  
It isn’t a dance club, but a private eating one on top of a five star hotel. You are grateful you still have your stage makeup on. The place has an intimidating air, even the receptionist with her friendly aura has an air of sophistication. You are shown into a low lit private nook with the expanse of Seoul’s nightlife in full view. The whole thing feels very romantic, but your brain refuses to accept it. You are bound to say or do something stupid before the night ends. She’s sat across you already waiting for the waiter to spread the table napkin on her lap. You feel more and more like fish out of water ready to be grilled. She tilts her head, silently asking you to sit. You do it with surprising ease and a characteristic smoothness. Whoever is up there is looking out for you so far. The night goes on without a glitch once you’ve gotten out of your head.    
  
This is not a romantic date. She’s made reservations for the anniversary of your debut but the restaurant had been fully booked up till tonight. That cherry blossom mocktail better live up to expectation.    
  
It does.    
  
Along with everything you’ve ordered. She refuses to pick at your food opting to observe you eating. You tell her she looks hungry. In more ways than one. You want to add but think better of it. She blinks the predatorial look she’s had away and orders food. Once again the superficial monster inside you is satisfied with all the luxury. You are glad to have somebody who you can share these not very simple joys in life.   
  
She’s still hungry afterwards.    
  
Your wrists are loosely trapped under her hands above your head while she feasts on your sensitive neck. Your moans are bouncing off of the thick walls of the five-star hotel room. Your breathing is getting choppier by the minute, but she shows no sign of stopping. Suddenly, you are facedown, makeup smearing on the immaculate white pillow. 

You start to feel the bites that you know are coming. Her name comes out of your mouth in a steady stream. You really like being bitten during sex. You both share that preference. She’s biting your back like it’s the dessert that completes a course. Each one is soothed by soft licks. You bite the pillow to keep from screaming when she reaches down to enter you from the back. She skims her free hand between your body and the bed touching you so confidently, igniting your nerve endings while she pumps in and out of you wetly. She guides your bottom half up until you are kneeling; head down, ass up to better accommodate her talented fingers. Tears sting your eyes when you come. You are not sure if out of pleasure or out of the gentleness she shows even when doing the most carnal things to your body. Your lipstick leaves marks on the bite ridden pillow when you are done.    
  
She’s smirking like a cat who just ate the canary when you pull her down for a cuddle. She tells you you look like a sexy Mcdonald’s clown with your make up messed up. You kiss her sloppily, messing up her makeup too. She responds to your playful kisses with deliciously slow ones. She’s still very hungry. You’re already bone tired, but her being in some kind of sensual mood puts you in that mood too. 

She’s being talkative, congratulating you on the award. You congratulate her back by licking a long line from the valley between her breasts to her neck. She clutches at your back pulling you flush against her like she’s trying to meld your bodies together. She’s repeatedly saying “I wish” in a feverish manner. You ask her what she wishes for. She searches your face as if she’s trying to find something there. She wishes to feel like this forever is her answer. 

You see her hunger die in her eyes to be replaced by something else that you no longer can see because she’s kissing you tenderly. Your eyes flutter close and your hands begin to roam her body unhurriedly like you have all the time in the world to appreciate her curves. You feed your memory of which sound she makes with each touch like the hitch of her breath when you bite her jutting hip bone; the deepness of her moans when you suck and lick on the inside of her thighs; the near shout she lets out when you finally mouthed her smooth mound. The wetness that rushed to your fingers when you explored her entrance excited you. Her body is twisting on the bed overwhelmed and well fed with pleasure. 

You suck on her clit wetly at a leisurely pace teasing her into coming harder than she’s ever had before. She’s gripping on the headboard for support and her thighs are trying to squeeze your head in. You gently pry her legs open trading the teasing sucks into rolling ones that she likes so much she gets wet anew. She’s muttering every curse word at you and the filthiest one sounds like “I love you” when she comes falling apart.   
  
The lull finds you spooned together. She’s kissing the back of your head, burying her nose in your hair drawing in your scent. You want to ask if she meant what she said in a non-platonic way. You want to know if she even said what you think you heard, but this moment is too beautiful to disrupt with talks about feelings. You want to say it back to her, or at least tell her you feel the same.    
  
You get out of bed in the guise of washing off the grimes of sex. She follows you to do the same. You help her clean her makeup off after washing up and she responds in kind. Each swipe of the make up remover, a statement. It’s an “I love you”, an “I care about you”, an “I treasure you above all others”, and maybe a “words cannot express how much you mean to me”. All the words you won’t dare let pass your lips.   
  
The makeup stained pillows need to be paid for. For now you will sleep on the untouched one of the twin beds and hope that this night will not change anything come tomorrow. 


	7. HELLO

You fight about a lot of things, usually little things, random stuff.   
  
You fight when you get too critical of her. What can you do? You want the best from her and for her. Maybe, you should ease up on being a perfectionist when it comes to her. You think a lot about this these days.   
  
When you disagree on big issues like career steps; you talk about it as a group. They get resolved quickly.    
  
There are things you don’t fight about, like this sex thing going on between the two of you. You don’t even talk about it enough to spark a fight. There is nothing to fight about anyway.    
  
You aren’t dating.    
  
You’re just bodies that warm each other on dark and cold nights. Happens on warm summer nights and in daylight too; but who’s checking on the technicalities?    
  
The point of this reverie is: you want to start a fight. You watch her flirt with other girls and avert your eyes. If you don’t see it, it’s not happening.    
  
She’s a natural flirt. It’s in her genetic make up, you believe. And she’s naturally kind, thoughtful, and friendly. She can make people feel at ease around her. It doesn’t hurt her chances that she’s extremely good looking especially now with her dark hair grown long. The fact that she exudes a confident vibe wraps up the girlcrush package nicely.    
  
Anyway, you want to start a fight.    
  
This is why you don’t want to date famous people. You made a pact with yourself not to date heartthrobs. They are loved by many and you have better things to do than to compete with the whole world for their attention.    
  
It’s a good thing that you and her are not dating. This mental peptalk has done a good job in distracting you while she finishes up her socializing.    
  
She’s back by your group’s side and you make your way out of the venue. She reaches for your hand as you step down the stairs and you don’t pull away because it is making you feel like a princess. She lets go immediately after the last step. You clench your hand into a fist.    
  
She’s on her phone the whole ride to the company. You surreptitiously look at her by her reflection in the car window. She said she’s being invited to a radio show and the maknaes cheer her on. They call themselves “The Loser Club'' and it’s a subunit that you’ll never be a part of. You touch your molar with the tip of your tongue and start breathing through your mouth to keep your composure. You try not to feel excluded because you are pretty sure it’s not their intention to leave you out, out of malice.    
  
She’s still on her phone, mouth stretched in a smile. You ask her if she’s playing a new game. She says not at all and that she’s texting another girl group member. The one she was just talking to earlier. You make remarks about her being all about business. Her smile transforms into that infuriating lopsided grin. It makes you think maybe it isn’t about business.    
  
Picking up your phone, you text her. Three words. Come. Over. Later. She looks up at you from whatever she’s doing and shakes her head. A headache is beginning to build up, you feel the pressure of it persisting. You throw out another text asking her the reason for her refusal. The words are also out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.    
  
Her eyes are wide saucers as if she couldn’t believe you are talking about it out loud. As expected you are fighting again. The words “why not” and “not tonight” are thrown back and forth without any explanation. You feel your face turning tomato red. One of the maknaes suggests that you get a room. A sharp glare from you shuts her up.   
  
You wait by your phone when you get home. The way it works is: you fight, she texts at around 2:30, she comes over, you have sex, fight is over. Another route is: you let it fester for a few days or weeks; she sends you cute animal pics; she comes over; you make up; fight is over. You hope for the former because you want her to turn up at your door asap.    
  
It’s not that you are thirsty for the sex, although it’s good. Years of practice made the two of you somewhat experts on pleasing each other in bed. If only you were as open about feelings as you are about fucking.    
  
You shouldn’t have confessed to her that one night. It wasn’t even a formal confession. That “I love you” could just be chalked as a fevered sexual slip of the tongue. You are not even sure if she heard you because it was not mentioned ever again. Since then, you have been pussy footing around her, fearful of what could happen if she does ask about it. You have been lowkey avoiding being alone with her in private.   
  
Since that night, she’s been very active in pursuing other people. She said she wants to broaden her contacts list. For a woman who believes that there is no need for many friends she sure is making a lot. You are jealous of everything that comes near her these days. Specifically, of all the girls and boys who are getting her attention instead of you.    
  
It’s already 2AM and your confidence is waning. You turn the TV off. The movie you’ve had on isn’t doing a good job at helping you sleep at all. You want to sleep badly. Tomorrow will be another day of busy schedules. You could get lost in the hustle and bustle and forget these irritating feelings for a while. You both work well together professionally, thank goodness. The separation between business and pleasure have been trained well into your brains. It’s almost robotic how you act accordingly in business settings. For now, you need to sleep.   
  
You switch the tv on again and find an adult channel. When all else fails, masturbating will turn your lights off easily. Some hot pizza guy delivers a rather large pizza to a random hot guy on your screen. Their clothes are off as soon as the door closes.   
  
You start to feel warm. Your left hand wanders under your sleep shirt to touch your abdomen. The muscles there jump at your touch. The hand travels up to cup your breast slowly circling into a knead. A moan escapes your lips and your eyes close on their own. It’s a wrong move because you see her face as soon as the darkness envelops you. If she were there she’ll be sucking on your breasts for sure. You bring your fingers to your mouth to wet them before pinching your own nipples to imitate the sensation of her wet mouth on you. It has you panting and you feel a new wetness between your legs. Your free hand dives down there to find your panties drenched. She usually finds touching you over your underwear sexy so you do that. You massage your clit slowly with two fingers just like she would. You grow wetter at every stroke. It wrenches another moan from you far louder than that from your tv. Your sleep shorts are starting to feel uncomfortable. They’re off along with your panties in no time. You rake your fingernails along your inner thigh like she would. It sets you on fire. You flip on your stomach and grind against your fingers pressed on the bed. Sweat beads your forehead as you work on your own release. If she were here she’d be biting your back while you chase your orgasm. Goosebumps pepper the back of your neck at the thought. You could almost hear her deep voice urging you on. Urging you to come for her, calling you beautiful. Your senses are becoming more and more overwhelmed by thoughts of her loving and fucking you. You ride your slicked fingers until her name falls from your lips when you finally come.    
  
Against better judgement, you cry at the aftermath. It’s a cliché. You often read about girls crying to their partner after sex. The only difference is you are alone. You were pretty stupid to think that this situation would have another ending than this. This ending sucks.   
  
You say her name to an empty room.    
  
You want to start a fight or maybe you want to start something else?    
  
Those fights were just in between more important events; the trips abroad, midnight food drives, comforting silences, holding hands when watching scary movies, feeding each other your favorite food, hysterically laughing at things nobody else gets, soft touches at dawn, rough sex at random places, loose hugs to ease anxiety, tight hugs at moments of triumph, among all other things that only speaks of love.   
  
After all that how could she still not love you back? Are you that stern? Are you that stupid? You love yourself enough though. You can cover for the both of you. Most importantly, you love her enough to cover for both of you. Even if she doesn’t return it the way you want she deserves to know.    
  
Angrily swiping off your tears, you reach for your phone. You’re glad you have her on your “favorites list”.    
  
The deep sound of her sleep addled voice surprises you. You thought she’d be out. Taking a deep breath you open your mouth to tell her what you wanted to for a long time. You start with a;   
  
“Hello. I love you.”


End file.
